


I'm Finding Inspiration in the Strangest of Places

by murderousCroww



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Jack Kelly, Dancer Racetrack Higgins, M/M, Nonbinary Spot Conlon, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Photographer Crutchie Morris, Slow Burn, Writer David Jacobs, crutchie is called charlie, everyones probably a bit ooc, for javid if you squint, just not main characters yknow, lots of swearing, other newsies are there, sexual jokes bc theyre dumb teen boys but nothing explicit ever happens, specs is named spencer, the newsies are a bunch of theatre kids obvs, way more sprace centric than i was planning it to be sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderousCroww/pseuds/murderousCroww
Summary: Jack Kelly was looking for inspiration for his newest art project. He was stuck, suffering from the dreaded art block with no idea if he'd even finish the painting before the deadline. Then David Jacobs walked into his life.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	1. Now All Of Manhattan Knows You're Fucking Spot Conlon

Jack was downstairs in the living room when he heard a thump and a soft cry of pain coming from his brother, Race’s, bedroom upstairs. It was a Sunday night and Jack was sitting at the coffee table trying desperately to come up with inspiration for an art project due at the end of the week. The assignment was simple enough, just pick a medium you’re unfamiliar with and create something. Jack, who usually worked with pencil, charcoal and acrylics, decided on watercolours but he still had no idea what he was actually going to paint. Normally, Jack and his younger brother Charlie would go on a walk around Manhattan, Charlie would snap some cool landscape photos with his camera and Jack would use those photos as a reference. Since the whole project was about unfamiliar territory, Jack didn’t want to do something easy like a landscape. He wanted to go beyond his comfort zone, do something different that would really wow his art teacher. 

Jack rhythmically tapped his pencil against the blank piece of watercolour paper, the only light coming from the TV in front of him. He wasn’t really paying attention to what was on as he made sure to keep the volume as low as possible to avoid waking up his family, but it seemed to be mostly uninteresting late-night talk shows. There was another thump from upstairs and Jack stopped tapping his pencil. He heard whispers, two voices and, even from downstairs, Jack could tell that one of them did not belong to either of his brothers. Jack put down his pencil and slowly crept his way upstairs in hopes of not starting whoever was in his brother’s room. Immediately he comes to the worst possible conclusion, that someone was currently in his house and in the process of kidnapping Race. Once at the top of the stairs, Jack checked on Charlie first. His door was wide open and he was lying still on his bed, his chest rising and falling gently and eyes closed with his texas heeler, Poppy, asleep at his feet. Poppy stirred slightly, opening her eyes and perking her ears up, but she fell back asleep once she saw it was just Jack. The next closet door was to Race’s bedroom which was only opened a crack. Jack strained his ears in an attempt to make out the hushed conversation that was happening inside. 

“Would you just shut up and come over here,” He heard an unfamiliar voice hiss, “This was  _ your  _ idea anyway.” 

“Yeah well-” Another voice, presumably Race, started before getting cut off. There was more shuffling and before Jack could even process what he was doing he pushed Race’s bedroom door open. 

“Alright asshole, hands off my brother,” Jack announced as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. From the light streaming into the room from the window, Jack could make out that someone was on top of Race and was gripping his shirt collar. 

“Jack-?” Race asked, his voice high pitched and nervous. 

“Kelly?” The other figure asked as if they were finishing Race’s sentence. Jack looked at Race’s wide-eyed expression on his face before his eyes moved to look at the mysterious figure. 

“Spot Conlon?” Jack questioned, the look on his face almost mirroring his brother’s. Suddenly, Spot scrambled off of Race as if the contact burned them. Race stood up quickly and made his way over to his brother. 

“You can’t tell Ma.” 

“Spot fucking Conlon?” Jack repeated, ignoring Race’s concern. He was seemingly on the verge of hysteria. “You snuck Spot Conlon into your bedroom? What the fuck were the two of you doing? Wait, nevermind, I don’t think I want to know.” 

“Jack please don’t tell Medda, she’ll kill me.” Race pleaded.

“Oh yeah? What’s in it for me?” 

“Uh, your brother’s well being?” 

Jack attempted, and failed, to hold back his laughter, “I can’t believe you snuck Spot Conlon into your fuckin’ bedroom, they came through the window?” 

Race shifted awkwardly, clearly embarrassed, “Yeah? how else would they get in?” 

“Maybe through the front door? Like, I dunno, a normal person?” 

Spot watched as the two boys went back and forth, their eyes shifting from one to the other as they spoke. 

“Uh, so like should I stay or go?” Spot finally piped up, interrupting Race’s spiel about how he’ll do all of Jack’s chores for the week as long as Jack doesn’t tell Miss Medda about Spot. 

“Go! Well, stay. I mean, some other time?” Race smiled sheepishly at Spot and Spot smirked back.

“Sure Racer, I’ll text you.” Spot said before kissing Race’s temple and slipping out of the open window. Spot gingerly shut the window, winked at Race, and then began to climb down the side of the house. Jack gawked at the display of affection between his brother and Spot.

“Are you two….?” Race sat down on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands. 

“Don’t tell Mama.” 

“I won’t, but you better follow through on the chores.” 

“I will.” Race rolled his eyes at Jack. Jack just barely registered Poppy pushing past his legs in order to get into Race’s room, too preoccupied with the fact that his brother is apparently fucking Brooklyn’s very own Spot Conlon. Poppy eyed the window that Spot just went through, sniffed it once before starting to bark. 

“Poppy, bad girl. Sh, sh, be quiet please.” Race rushed to soothe her, but the damage was already done. Charlie wandered into Race’s room, bleary-eyed and half asleep.

“What’s all the noise for? It’s like 12:30 and someone needs their beauty sleep.” Charlie said, leaning against Race’s door frame for support. 

“You mean Ma is awake?” Race asked, panicked.

“No! It’s me, I needs my beauty sleep.” The end of Charlie’s mumble reply tapered off into a yawn.

“Sorry Charlie, did we wake ya?” Jack turned towards his younger brother, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

“Nah, my leg had me up already, but really what are you two doing in here? Why was Pops barkin’?” 

“Race tried to sneak Spot Conlon in, you just missed him.” Charlie let out a loud laugh at that before Race shushed him.

“Listen, Charlie, you can’t tell Ma.”

“Racer’s already doing my chores for the week to keep me quiet.” Jack and Charlie shared a look.

“Oooh, can you do my chores too?” Charlie asked, his eyebrows raised curiously. 

“I… Fine. Yeah.” Race sighed in defeat. Charlie smiled as he scratched Poppy behind her ear. 

“You’re the best, Race.” Charlie said before making his way back to his bedroom with Poppy in tow. Jack nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, now go to bed. It’s a school night and Ma will have your head if you’re late for school.” He ruffled Race’s dirty blond hair before leaving the room as well. Jack closed the door behind him, making sure to leave it open a crack just like it was before he barged in, and headed back downstairs. He decided to put a pin in his art project as there is the rest of the week for him to try and finish it, he just hoped that inspiration would strike before then. 

That morning, Race was last to the breakfast table. Charlie was already more than halfway done his two pieces of toast and Jack had finished breakfast and was now sipping on coffee from a plain black mug. 

“It’s about time you joined us.” Medda commented, pointing the spatula she was holding in Race’s direction. 

“Sorry Mama, I overslept.” Race replied before busying himself with pouring some cereal. Jack and Charlie giggled to themselves quietly which caused Medda to raise a single eyebrow in their direction, but she didn’t question them further. 

“Up late last night, Race?” Jack teased and Race just scowled at him. Before Race could supply a snarky comment back, Medda changed the subject.

“I’ll see you three at rehearsals today?” She asked as she sat down at the table. It  _ sounded  _ like a question, but the boys knew that it was more akin to a command. 

“Yes, Ma.” The three of them replied at the same time. Medda nodded, content with their answers. 

Race barely got to finish his bowl of cereal before he and his two brothers were being ushered outside by their mother. She urged them to get going so that they wouldn’t be late while Race and Jack insisted that they had “plenty of time.” Of course, Medda won and before long the brothers were making their way to the bus stop. 


	2. When You're Nicknamed, You're Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are unfamiliar faces at rehearsals this week.

“David, are we there yet?” Les asked as he tugged on the shirt sleeve of his older brother. Dave simply rolled his eyes in reply but tried to not let his brother catch onto his exasperation.

“No Les, but almost.” He said, giving his brother a small smile. 

“I don’t understand why we had to take the subway, we could’ve gotten Mom to drive us,” Les whined. 

“Mom and Dad have plans tonight, remember? That’s why you’re with us in the first place.” God bless Dave’s patience as Les had been pestering him for the entire trip to the theatre. The subway ride wasn’t that bad, as Les had plenty of things to distract himself with, but now that they were walking it seemed like he was bored out of his mind. 

“Well,” Les started, not ready to admit defeat just yet, “We coulda got Katherine’s dad to drive us.” Katherine shook her head at that.

“Yeah sure, get my dad to drive us to a theatre that isn’t his, I’m sure he’d love that.” The sarcasm in her voice was so evident that even Les picked up on it and decided to not push the topic any further.

The group rounded the corner and the Larkin Theatre came into view. Dave fidgeted with the cuffs of his blazer, they were all still in their school uniforms, afraid that they would’ve been late to rehearsals if they had changed. Sarah, Dave’s sister, glanced at him from the corner of her eye. 

“Dave, they’re just a bunch of theatre kids. Nothing to be scared of.” She reassured her brother and moved closer to him so she could place a comforting hand on his shoulder while they walked. 

“Katherine’s a theatre kid and I’m kind of scared of her.” Spencer piped up from Dave’s other side. 

“Don’t be!” Katherine laughed. Spencer and Katherine went back and forth about if Katherine had scary qualities. Even Les joined in on the discussion, interjecting to say that Spencer is just “too soft.”

Slowly, as he watched his friends bicker and laugh, some of Dave’s nerves dissipated. He was well acquainted with the theatre kids at Brooklyn Amity and they were a well behaved group. Plus, Sarah was right, theatre kids really don’t have a reputation for being particularly intimidating. With his sister and his two closest friends at his side, Dave was ready to take on whatever Larkin Theatre was going to throw at him. 

“I thought this idiot was getting  _ attacked _ , but no! Instead, he had his tongue down Spot Conlon’s throat!” Jack exclaimed from where he was standing on the stage in Miss Medda Larkin’s theatre. He was wearing a white apron that was caked in paint and had a paintbrush tucked behind his ear. Jack’s audience, who were a group of Jack’s high school friends who participated in the stage plays Medda put on, howled with laughter. From across the stage, Race’s ears turned pink. 

“I told you not to tell nobody!” He shouted.

“You told me not to tell Medda,” Jack corrected with a mischievous glint in his eyes “you didn’t say if I could tell anyone else.” Race groaned and buried his face in his hands. Both of the boys knew that this was all in good fun, but Race still couldn’t believe that Jack went and told the whole cast and crew. Albert stood up from where he was sitting and made his way over to Race. 

“Racetrack Higgins is fucking Spot Conlon? I’m in shock that you managed to score at all, nevermind someone like that.” Albert said, his hand on his chest in mock disbelief. He shot a wink at Race for good measure, taking pride in fucking with his good friend. 

“Oh fuck off, you. I hate you.” Race hissed back. Albert sat back down right beside Race and bumped their shoulders together. 

“Racer, you love me.” He stated confidently before leaning his head against Race’s shoulder. Race just rolled his eyes and nudged Albert off.

“Goddamn leech.” Race murmured under his breath which caused Albert to stick his tongue out childishly at him. Race stuck his tongue out back at Albert in retaliation. 

Jack, ignoring his brother’s complaints, was just about to launch into even more detail about how much of an idiot Race was when the doors to the theatre swung open. The boys looked up collectively, expecting Medda to finally start today’s rehearsal, but instead, they were greeted with a group of five kids, four of whom looked around their age.

“Private school kids?” Henry asked, craning his neck to look at the group from where he was lounging in the audience seats. 

“ _ Brooklyn  _ private school kids,” Jojo added.

“Hey now,” Jack said, jumping off the stage and walking towards the new group, “Y’all were new kids once too.” Jack approached Dave and shook his hand. 

“Jack Kelly.” 

“David Jacobs, are you-”

“Pleasure to meet ya, Davey.” Jack cut Dave off, suddenly noticing Katherine and Sarah standing beside Dave.

“Oh, and who might you two lovely ladies be?” Jack dropped Dave’s hand and turned towards the two girls. Katherine and Sarah rolled their eyes in tandem, obviously unimpressed at Jack’s attempts at “wooing” them. 

“Sarah Jacobs,” Sarah supplied, “And this is Katherine P-”

“Plumber.” Katherine interrupted, smiling sheepishly at Sarah. Jack raised his eyebrows, suspicious, but didn't press any further. 

“This is Sarah and I’s brother Les.” Dave gestured to Les who was looking up at Jack as if he was the coolest person in the world, “Spot Conlon told us about this theatre and-”

“Yous know Spot Conlon?” Buttons interjected from across the room. 

“God, who doesn’t know Spot Conlon? Kid knows how to make an entrance.” Dave said, only slightly frustrated with how often he was getting interrupted.

“Funny,” Albert said, “That’s what Race said when Spot was-” Race cut him off with a harsh elbow to the stomach.

Spencer's eyes lit up with realization, “Race? I overheard Spot talking about him in the-”

“Can it, Specs!” Race shouted, glaring daggers at Spencer from where he was sitting. Albert eyed the two wearily, still gripping his stomach, worried he might have to hold Race back. Spencer just burst into laughter. 

“Boys, this is a theatre, not a circus. What are you all shouting about?” Medda called as she entered the room. She was carrying a few grocery bags overflowing with new props and costumes and instantly her eyes landed on the new kids.

“Oh, fresh faces!” She called, handing her bags over to the closest person to her before making a beeline to the group of new kids. 

“More like fresh meat!” Smalls shouted, which caused the boys to whoop and holler in agreement. Medda shushed them with a wave of her hand. 

“I hope we aren’t late for auditions,” Sarah said after everyone reintroduced themselves to Medda.

“Nonsense,” Medda replied, “You are right on time.” Medda then turned her attention to Jack, “Jack, be a dear and go get some of the extra copies of the script, would you? There should be some backstage.” 

As Jack made his way over to the stage, Medda started to chat enthusiastically with Spencer and Katherine about what got them into acting and what type of roles they prefer to play. Jack actually took the stairs instead of running and jumping onto the stage like he usually did because he knew Medda would tell him off for “horseplay in the theatre”. Dave and Les seemed to follow him at a distance, probably anxious to take a look at the script, and Jack pretended to not notice. Thankfully, the two brothers didn’t follow Jack backstage and instead, they waited patiently just before the curtain. Dave was carefully admiring the backdrop that Jack was working on, eyes taking in the details. when Jack came back with four scripts in hand and nearly ran into Dave. 

“Did… Did you paint this?” Dave asked tentatively, noting the paintbrush tucked behind Jack’s ear.

“I paint all the backdrops for the plays,” Jack said as if it's the most normal and casual thing in the world. He handed Dave a copy of the script and Dave just looked at him dumbfounded. 

“You? Wow… Wow, this is really good.” Dave said, adoration clear in his voice and eyes. Jack just shrugged. 

“Calm down, it’s just a bunch of buildings.” He eyed the backdrop critically. It was of the Emerald City for their upcoming production of The Wizard of Oz and was only half finished. Jack noticed all the imperfections almost immediately, places where the paint could be blended better and a few obvious brush strokes. Jack painted it so of course his eye was drawn to the details, he’s spent hours looking at it up close. Dave, however, was looking at it as a whole and, while unfinished, it was jaw dropping. Dave had never met a kid with skill like Jack. Dave couldn’t imagine how stunning it would be once it was done. Jack squirmed a bit as Dave looked from the backdrop to Jack and back to the backdrop again. The other guys have all been well acquainted with Jack’s artistic talent and, yes, while they do compliment Jack any chance they get, something about someone seeing his art for the first time just felt so overwhelming. It’s the same reaction every time, wonderstruck and disbelief, but something about Dave’s eyes and smile made the whole interaction feel…. different. 

“This is amazing!” Les exclaimed which snapped Jack back to reality.

“Thanks, kid.” Was all Jack could mumble out, eyes trained on Dave’s face as he scanned the backdrop again. It was like the guy had never seen a painting before. Jack suddenly seemed to remember what he was doing before Dave started to complement his painting skill and made his way over to where Katherine and Sarah were standing, still talking to Medda.

“Are we the only girls?” Sarah asked cautiously, probably worried that she might be making false assumptions.

“Yes, and thank God you’re here. When I said I wanted more boys to get involved in the theatre I was not expecting this.” Medda nodded and gestured to the group of boys behind her, they all were talking loudly, shouting or bickering. It looked like chaos, but Medda knew that she still could regain control over the situation if she deemed fit. 

“So I assume gender doesn’t play into roles that much?” Katherine questioned, thanking Jack when he handed her a script. 

“Not at all, I tend to let the boys explore whatever they're comfortable with. Some are okay with playing roles that were originally female, others aren’t.” Medda looked like she was going to say more but Race interrupted her.

“You should’ve  _ seen  _ Albert after Romeo and Juliet, he was practically begging for me to kiss him again.” Race said. He had a shit eating grin on his face, probably because he was teasing Albert instead of being teased. 

“I was not!” Albert replied hastily. He took off his backwards snapback hat to whack Race in the arm with it which caused Race to cackle. Medda ignored the boys’ antics and continued to speak to Katherine.

“No need to worry about auditioning, roles are first come first serve,” Medda turned to address the rest of the group, “Have a look through the script and let me know when you’ve decided.” At that, the theatre burst into chatter and noise. People were reading lines, discussing characters and comparing roles. Katherine and Sarah made their way over to Dave and Les while Spencer was swept away by Mike and Ike, determined to make him feel at home. Dave wondered idly if this theatre was going to eventually feel like a home to him too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday! the next time i post it'll be in 2021 :O and lemme tell y'all, chapter three is a long one. let me know what you think, comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> follow me on twitter [(@spotconlonsturf)](https://twitter.com/spotconlonsturf) or on tumblr [(murderouscroww)](https://murderouscroww.tumblr.com/)!


	3. I Never Promised That They Would Be Honest About Their Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot attends Race's ballet recital

Jack listened intently to the rain that was beating down on the roof of the theatre. It was a particularly dreary Tuesday afternoon and Jack decided that it was also a perfect day to continue work on the backdrops. Emerald City was almost done and it was a real showstopper. Jack knew it had to be perfect, that it had to be stunning and beautiful and the star of the show, but he also ran the risk of it distracting from the actors on stage. It was a fine line to walk and Jack, despite constant complaints of art being far too hard, loved to walk it. Jack was the only person in the theatre because there were no rehearsals on Tuesdays and Medda was home with Charlie. Jack enjoyed the quiet for once, just him, the rain and some quiet music streaming from his phone’s speakers. It was such a harsh contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of rehearsals or just his household in general. His quiet was shattered when the door to the theatre was pushed open. Jack looked up, expecting Medda or maybe Smalls or Buttons, but standing in the doorway in all their 5’2” glory was Spot Conlon. They were dressed in their classic red and black striped shirt, blue jeans and a leather jacket. Their hair was wet from the rain and was flattened against their forehead but, other than that, they didn’t look too soaked.

“Spot?” Jack questioned and paused mid brushstroke. 

“Racer wasn’t picking up his phone so I assumed he was here.” Spot responded nonchalantly. They leaned up against the door frame, their hands in their pockets and one leg crossed in front of the other. From far away, they looked intimidating, but Jack knew he had five inches on Spot. Jack also knew, however, that what Spot lacked in height they made up in strength and speed, not that he was looking to pick a fight with Spot (at least right now). Suddenly, Jack seemed to remember Sunday night and a sly smile spread across his features.

“Riight, well he’s at ballet right now.” Jack said. Spot’s mouth silently formed the word “oh” before they turned on their heel to leave. 

“But,” Jack started, Spot stopped moving, “I’m picking him up in fifteen, I could give ya a lift if you want.” Spot seemed to consider their options for a minute and eventually decided to go with Jack to the ballet studio, it was better than walking back to the subway station in the rain. 

Spot watched in awe through the studio window as Race pirouetted, spinning over and over again. Spot couldn’t comprehend how Race didn’t get sick, hell Spot was dizzy just watching Race.

“Kids hell of a dancer.” Jack supplied as he walked up beside Spot and started them from their thoughts. 

“Yeah, I didn’t even know he did this type of stuff.” Spot replied, still slightly mesmerized by the way that Race moved with such ease and grace. They would have never used “graceful” to describe Racetrack, especially with all the Snapchat videos they’ve gotten from Albert of Race tripping, falling or just generally being an idiot. Spot still remembered when Albert told them about the time Race melted a cutting board in the oven when trying to make chicken alfredo. However, in that dance studio, in his element, Race finally looked comfortable in his own skin. It’s as if Race wasn’t truly himself unless he was dancing.

“How long has he been doing this?” Spot asked, jerking his thumb towards the glass for good measure. Jack stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and shrugged.

“I dunno, longer than I’ve known him though. I think it helps with, y’know, everything.” Jack answered, unsure if he was oversharing about Race’s past. Spot understood the need for a distraction, it’s why they turned to drumming. They don’t understand the extent of Race’s trauma, it’s not their place to pry obviously. All they know is that Race was at a low point and got tangled up with the wrong people, but Spot’s glad that Race found a way to cope. 

“Y’know he’s got a recital tomorrow night. I get a free ticket because we’re family, but I could give it to you.” Jack and Spot weren’t good friends per say, more like friendly rivals, but they did have a sort of mutual respect for each other. Both were fairly well known as well as liked in their respective cliques, Spot in Brooklyn and Jack in Manhattan. Jack couldn’t help but notice this soft smile that Spot got on their face while they watched Race dance. If Race wasn’t his brother, Jack wouldn’t be offering up his ticket. 

“You think Race would be okay with that?” Spot asked, they tried to keep their cool but their wide eyes gave them away.

“Spot I’ve been attending every single one of Race’s ballet recitals since I moved in with Medda, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I missed one.” Jack shrugged in reply. It was true, he had attended every single one of Race’s recitals and he knows that Race probably wants Spot to come to one.

“That’s cool of you, Kelly.” Spot said, genuine gratefulness seeping into his words. Jack shrugged again, suddenly bashful at Spot’s honestly.

“He probably wants you there.” Jack noted. Before Spot could ask why or what Jack meant, Race came out of the studio and walked towards the pair carrying a duffle bag with his spare clothes and ballet slippers.

“Spot!” Race exclaimed, “What are you doing here?” 

“They came to Medda’s theatre looking for you and I told them that I was about to pick you up and asked if they wanted to tag along.” Jack answered for them. Spot was thoroughly preoccupied with how electric blue Race’s eyes were and the way his dirty blonde hair was plastered to his forehead from sweat. Race was wearing black tights and a well worn grey hoodie with the words “BROOKLYN” across it in blue. 

“Is that my sweatshirt?” The question fell out of Spot’s mouth before Spot could even comprehend that he’s speaking and for the first time ever, Jack watched his brother blush.

“You left it in my room on Sunday.” Race mumbled, looking at the ground. “You can have it back if you want.” 

“No, it’s cool. It looks better on you anyway.” Spot replied coolly which made Race smile. Jack started to walk to the parking lot, leaving the two to their own devices. 

“So what did you want to ask me about?” Race asked as they began to follow Jack out the building a few feet away. Race awkwardly rubbed the back of their neck.

“I, uh, can’t remember anymore.” Spot admitted, slightly sheepish, which isn’t a look they wear often.

“Maybe you just wanted to see me?” Race teased with a laugh as he wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Caught me.” Spot said with a smirk. They raised their hands in an “I surrender” type way. Jack was already waiting in the car by the time they stepped out into the parking lot. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still dark with clouds. There was a chill in the air that cut right through Race’s, or well technically Spot’s, sweater which caused him to shudder involuntarily. Spot followed Race around to the back of the car and watched Race put his duffle bag in the trunk. 

Race turned to face Spot, eyebrows raised, “Need something?” He asked.

“You look really good when you dance.” Spot confessed almost breathlessly. Race’s ears turned pink.

“Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself.” Race quipped back, ignoring how flustered the compliment made him.

“When I dance?” Spot teased and Race shrugged. 

“In general.” 

Spot stepped towards Race, eliminating the distance between them, and grabbed Race’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. Race went easily, his hands resting on Spot’s hips almost instantly. Jack watched the scene unfold in his rearview mirror and when the kiss shifted from gentle to heated he “accidentally” leaned on the car horn. Spot and Race startled and detached themselves from each other, almost a mirror image of Sunday night. Race glared at his brother before walking around to the side of the car and slipped into the passenger seat, Spot got into the backseat.

“You’re just jealous, Kelly.” Spot said as Jack started to back out of the parking space, he rolled his eyes, not even giving Spot the satisfaction of a reply. Race talked for most of the car ride and after Spot was dropped off, he hijacked control of the radio. Jack, bless his soul, decided to not tease his brother about Spot, but he also didn’t let his brother know that he had given Spot his ticket to the recital. 

Spot arrived outside the dance studio on his older sister’s motorcycle. Hotshot often let Spot borrow her motorcycle because she knew that Spot loved the bike as much as she did and that they would be careful while driving it. It was a sleek black retro looking bike that Hotshot had saved up for entirely on her own. Spot didn’t know how many nice days were left, as winter was fast approaching, and so jumped at any opportunity to ride their sister’s bike. Honestly, Spot probably rode it more frequently than Hotshot did. Spot was a little bit later than they had hoped to be, but they still had time before the ballet started. Their ticket, a digital copy that Jack emailed them a few hours prior, was open and ready on their phone. They weren’t aware what the dress code for ballets was, but decided that a white button up under their leather jacket wouldn’t hurt. Thankfully, Spot didn’t get lost and found their seat beside Charlie relatively quickly.

“Oh, Spot, it’s good to see you again.” Medda greeted once Spot got their bearings and shrugged off their jacket. “Nice of Jack to give you his ticket. Say, you sent those Brooklyn private school kids my way?” 

“Yeah,” Spot nodded, “The mouth and his sister we’re asking about local theatres, figured I’d put in a good word for you.” Medda laughed in response. 

“You flatter me, Spot. But Davey and his friends have been a good addition to our production don’t you think, Charlie?” Medda turned to Charlie who was preoccupied with something on his phone, once he realized he was being addressed he perked right up. 

“Oh yeah, Kath and Specs are a dream to work with.” Charlie gushed, who often helped Mush with tech when he wasn’t acting in the plays. Medda nodded in agreement and the three settled into a comfortable silence. Before long the lights dimmed, the curtains were raised and out walked a single dancer clade in a sparkly blue outfit. Spot perked up immediately and sat up in their chair, straining their eyes to see if it was Race. It wasn’t, but even from Spot’s amateur point of view, the dancing was all amazing even if Race wasn’t the one dancing. Sadly, Race didn’t have much of a large role in this ballet and once all the dancers were on stage he mainly faded into the background, Spot couldn’t help how their eyes were drawn to him though. Surprisingly, Spot was quite invested in the performance. It was mesmerizing to watch the dancers, especially Race, in their element. Distantly, Spot wondered if this is how people felt when they watched Spot and Spot’s band perform which led Spot to think about how they totally should invite Race to their next show and they're a fool to have not done it earlier. Spot didn’t entirely register that the show was over until Charlie and Medda started to clap and Spot made it their duty to be as loud and obnoxious as possible while cheering. One by one, the dancers came back on stage to bow and Charlie and Spot hollered once Race walked on stage. Instantly, Race’s eyes found them in the crowd and Spot swore that even from a distance they could see his face fall slightly. When people started to slowly file out, Spot obediently followed Medda and Charlie to the parking lot and, for once seemingly the first time in their life, Spot felt nervous to see Race. 

Race and Spot had been fooling around for a month or so now, ever since they hooked up at Mike and Ike’s party. Spot normally snuck off to Race’s house in the night to make out or to just hang out. The two of them never really labelled what they were, Spot was well aware of Race’s difficulty with commitment and hell if they were going to be the first to admit that they’ve caught feelings. So, the two just dance around the very obvious elephant in the room every time they interact. Spot’s been in denial for a while now, but these butterflies in their stomach were hard to ignore. Yes, Race was attractive, Spot had known this since the beginning, but the more time they spent together had Spot learning that he was more than just a pretty face. Race was effortlessly hilarious sometimes and he cared so deeply for his friends and family. Spot couldn’t stop thinking about the way Race lit up when talking about something he was particularly passionate about. Spot knew that he was going to change the world one day, but that didn’t mean they were in love with Race, right? When Spot kissed Race in the parking lot yesterday it was so… easy and a part of Spot felt like simple and easy kisses could be a regular part of their relationship. Maybe there was a timeline out there where Spot didn’t have to be given a ticket by Jack and instead showed up to Race’s recital as his boyfriend. Spot was scared, though, scared of the vulnerability that came with feelings like these and a relationship. Race wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted, terrified that the people he loved could slip through the cracks again. Spot was worried about getting hurt or worse, hurting Race. 

It was snowing when the three stepped outside, huge, fluffy snowflakes that melted as soon as they touched the ground due to it not being frozen yet. Spot trailed behind as Medda and Charlie walked to Medda’s car, watching as the two were in a very intense discussion about something drama related that Spot didn’t quite understand. 

“Oh! Spot!” Medda cried, seemingly remembering that they were there, “Do you need a ride home?” 

“No need, Miss Medda, I’ve got the bike.” Spot gestured to the motorcycle that was parked a few ways away from Medda’s Honda Civic. Medda looked unconvinced.

“In the snow?”

“I’ll manage just fine.” 

“And will Race be going home with you or us?” Charlie commented with a sly smile which caused Spot to shoot daggers at him. 

“Maybe Race will get to call the shots when it comes to that?” Race interjected as he walked towards the group. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with a dark blue fall jacket and carried the same duffle bag he had yesterday. Spot could see a grey sleeve poking out the bag which they guessed was their Brooklyn hoodie. Race didn’t give Spot so much as a nod before turning to Medda.

“Where’s Jack?” Race asked as he stuffed his free hand into his jacket pocket. His face was already flushed from the cold night air and his hair was dusted with snowflakes.

“Dinner at Davey’s house, I believe. He gave Spot his ticket.” Medda responded. Instantly Race’s face soured into a frown, eyebrows knit together in a mix of anger, frustration and confusion. Spot had never seen Race frown for longer than a second, he almost looked like a completely different person. 

“Right, cool, great.” Race stated, more to himself than anything, with sarcasm evident in his voice. He clutched the strap of the duffle bag harder and looked from Medda to Charlie to Spot. 

“Racer-” Spot started, he reached out tentatively for Racetrack. 

“No.” Race replied through gritted teeth. He promptly turned on his heel and started to walk in the other direction.

“Race, no, fuck, where are you going?” Spot called out.

“Albert’s. I have bus money.” Race didn’t even spare a glance over his shoulder. Spot was about to chase after him before Charlie put a hand on their shoulder.

“He’ll be back, just let him cool off.” Charlie gave Spot a reassuring smile and Spot tried their very best to return it. 

There was a knock on the door of Albert’s apartment. Albert looked up from the pizza he was reheating in the microwave and towards the front door.

“Can you get that, Al?” Albert’s father, Elias, called from the couch, far too engrossed in the football game on TV to get up. Albert nodded in reply, well aware that his father couldn’t actually see the conformation, and went to answer the door. 

“Race?” Albert said, surprised, “I thought you had a show today. “

“I do, did, can I come in?” Race asked, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. The remnants of a frown still on his face with the way his mouth was just downturned enough to be totally unlike Race. Albert stepped aside to let Race in and Race immediately made his way to Albert’s bedroom. At this point, Albert’s pale eyebrows were practically in his hairline, puzzled by the weird way his friend was acting. Albert fished his now warm pizza from the microwave and followed Race to the bedroom. Race had put his duffle bag on Albert’s bed and was sitting on Albert’s brother Kellen’s bed. He fidgeted absentmindedly with a stray thread from the duvet that was spread across the bed. Albert used his foot to close the door behind him and sat down beside Race, the plate of pizza sitting on his lap.

“How’d you get in?” Albert asked around a bite of pizza.

“Waited until someone passed me in the lobby and told them I forgot my keys and that my roommate wasn’t answering.” Race replied casually.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I…” Race fell back onto the bed, grateful that Kellen must have still been at work because he wasn’t really in the mood to have a heart to heart on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed, “Jack totally blew off my recital.” 

“He what?” Albert almost gasped at that, a real genuine gasp. Jack  _ loved  _ his brother and, to Albert’s knowledge, had never once missed one of Race’s performances, ballet or otherwise. 

“Yeah, apparently he’s at Davey’s house right now, having dinner. It’s not like he forgot, he picked me up from the studio yesterday. He fucking gave Spot Conlon his ticket-” Race’s voice got louder with every word, the anger bubbling up inside him like an active volcano. Albert was acutely worried that his father, who was only one room away, could hear Race rant. 

“Wait, wouldn’t you be stoked about that?” Albert interrupted. 

“If Spot wanted a free ticket they could’ve asked, I could’ve gotten them a free ticket. I just... I didn’t even get a fucking ‘hey FYI I’m not coming tonight’ text from Jack. Like, what the fuck? Am I just that inconvenient to him?” Race ran his fingers through his hair and his leg started to jiggle anxiously. Albert placed his plate on the ground before shifting his body so he could face Race fully.

“Race, Jack adores you and you know how much of an idiot he can be,” This made Race chuckle slightly, which Albert took as a good sign, “He probably thought he was doing a good thing but giving up his ticket to your boyfriend-”

“Spot isn’t my boyfriend.” Oh now this was a whole new can of worms.

“What do you mean Spot isn’t your boyfriend? Monday at rehearsals didn’t you say that he was?” Albert was frowning slightly, deep in thought as he tried to recall the conversation they had on Monday.

“Jack said that he caught me and Spot,” Race gestured vaguely, “Y’know, making out or whatever. No one said anything about boyfriends.” 

“Right…” Albert pried gently, careful to not set Race off again, “Do you want to be their boyfriend?” 

“I…” Race looked at his hands, unsure, then stared back at Albert, “What the hell does that have to do with anything?” 

“Maybe you’re frustrated with Spot and taking it out on Jack?” Albert placed a hand on Race’s knee, trying to be reassuring, “You need to talk to Jack or else the uncertainty of where you stand will kill you. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah but-”

“Race you can't keep pretending you don't have feelings just because you're afraid of getting hurt again. If you keep swallowing your emotions down like this you'll choke before someone even has the chance to hurt you.” Albert was stern and straight to the point. Maybe this isn’t what Race  _ wanted  _ to hear, but Albert knew that it was what he needed to hear. That’s why Race liked going to Albert when he had a problem because Albert never sugarcoated anything. Race sat up and leaned forwards until his forehead rested on Albert’s shoulder. 

“Why are you smart?” Race mumbled into the material of Albert’s long sleeve shirt, just barely audible.

“One of us has to be.” Albert replied, an uncontrollable smile spreading across his face. Race pulled away ever so slightly, just so he could look Albert in the eyes, and cupped Albert’s face with one of his hands. Race leaned in and kissed Albert ever so carefully, a silent “thank you” mixed with an apology and a hint of something that neither boy could identify. Albert pushed on Race’s chest halfheartedly, but there was a fear in his eyes. For the first time since they were little kids, Race saw Albert scared.

“My dad… And what about Spot?” Albert’s voice was barely above a whisper, Race had to strain to hear him against the noise from the TV coming from the next room over. 

“I’ll figure it out.” Race replied. His signature cocky smirk back on his face. Albert’s nerves were soothed ever so slightly, but there was still something gnawing at the back of his mind. Race and Albert had held hands before and kissed as a part of a joke, but Albert knew that this wasn’t a joke. It was far too tender to be something like a gag, but Race was just talking about Spot, wasn’t he? Race wouldn’t toy with someone’s feelings like that, considering he knew how much it hurt, but what other reasons were there to kiss Albert? Race was searching for comfort and Albert was just the closest option. Albert refused to catch any sort of feelings for his best friend, he’s not that stupid. 

Soon, Race and Albert shuffled out of the bedroom, casually chatting about new movie releases. There was a commercial break on the TV so Elias was up and in the kitchen fixing himself a mid-game snack. 

“Shit, Racer, I didn’t even hear you come in.” 

“No worries, Elias, I was just leaving.” 

“Are you still doing those shows at the theatre?” asked as he wiped his hands down with a tea towel. Race looked at Albert from the corner of his eye to see that Albert was already looking at him, the two seemed to have a silent conversation before Race turned his attention back to Elias. 

“Yes sir, we just started our final show of the year.” 

“Ah,” Elias was clearly out of his comfort zone, a man's man like him didn’t really converse about the arts with any of his sons. Hell, Elias didn’t even know that Albert  _ did  _ theatre, he just assumed he was at the gym or out with friends. Albert had no idea to break the news to his dad who had such stereotypically masculine expectations for him. 

“Well,” Elias started, grasping for some kind of topic change, “How’s your mother doing?”

“She’s fine,” Race replied obediently, Albert’s dad was one of the few people that could turn Race obedient, “The theatre has been doing really well recently, new faces too, she’s excited.” 

“That’s good…” There was an awkward silence between the three until the football game came back onto the TV screen and Elias, food in hand, rushed back over to the couch.

“Should I walk you to the bus stop?” Albert whispered to Race once the two reached the front door. There wasn’t a real reason for Albert to be whispering, the conversation wasn’t scandalous, but he tended to get kind of nervous and cagey when his dad was around. 

“I’ll be fine Albie, but thanks.” Race smiled shyly before turning on his heel and walking towards the elevators. Albert watched Race go until the elevator doors closed and could no longer see him before walking back into his apartment. Hopefully, Race actually planned to talk to Jack and wouldn’t chicken out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello happy new year! back to school today but hopefully that won't interfere with upadates (fingers crossed lol). lemme know what you think. kudos/comments are always appreciated :D  
> follow me on twitter [(@spotconlonsturf)](https://twitter.com/spotconlonsturf) or on tumblr [(murderouscroww)](https://murderouscroww.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Fellas Is It Gay to Look at Your Bro in a Tender Way and Think He's Beautiful?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Race's ballet recital, Jack is invited to the Jacobs' house for dinner.

Wednesday afternoon had Charlie and Jack taking Poppy to the park for a walk. Charlie had brought his camera, like always, as he loved to take pictures of the different types of flowers and trees in the park. He wanted to take full advantage of the last few weeks of nice weather before it turns into dreary grey winter. Once the two boys and dog arrived at the park they ran into Jojo and his Shiba Inu named Noriaki. Poppy and Noriaki had hit it off instantly and the two dogs chased each other around the park. Charlie was busy talking animatedly to Jojo about something that Jack didn’t entirely understand, so instead, he wandered off to sit underneath a tree. Jack didn’t even realize that someone was speaking to him until Davey Jacobs from rehearsals lightly kicked Jack’s leg.

“Christ Davey, scared the shit out of me.” Jack said as he placed a hand over his racing heart. Dave let out an airy laugh and shook his head slightly, Jack couldn’t help but be slightly infatuated by the sound. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just wondering what you were thinking about.” Dave replied. He leaned against the trunk of the tree casually, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed that he was caught spacing out. 

“Got some art project due Monday, thinking ‘bout that.” 

“Don’t overwork yourself, I know I don’t write my best stuff when I’m stressed.” 

Jack raised his eyebrows, “You write?” 

“Katherine and I do editorials for the school newspaper.” Dave answered. He stood a little straighter, clearly proud of himself. 

“Oh, a smart boy eh?” Jack smirked which made Dave blush a bit. 

“Yeah,” Dave chuckled somewhat bashfully, “My writing pales in comparison with what you do with a paintbrush, though.” Dave’s eyes looked soft and they were directed right at Jack, Jack struggled to catch his breath for a moment. He was surprised, actually, that Dave was still hung up on his paintings, normally they never invoked such an emotional reaction in people.

“Yeah well, I’m sure you write better than me so we can call it about even.” The two of them fell into a semi-awkward silence for a moment before Jack came to a realization.

“Wait, what are you doing here? I mean you live in Brooklyn, right? Do they not have parks in Brooklyn?” Jack was on his feet now and he leaned against the same tree Dave was against, standing across from him.

“I came to pick up something I forgot at the theatre. When Les saw the park, he bolted. I could barely catch up to him.” Dave explained. He looked at Les who was standing near Charlie and Jojo playing with the dogs. Jack didn’t even notice that Les was over there, he wondered how long he was spaced out for.

“That’s exactly how Poppy acts when we walk her, you sure your brother ain’t part dog?” Jack laughed, which Dave joined in with lightheartedly. 

“It’s certainly not out of the question based on his energy levels. I have no idea how he does it, honestly. Sarah has always been able to match his energy for longer than me.” Dave smiled so fondly as he watched his brother play with the dogs. Jack couldn’t help but speculate if he looked at Charlie and Race the same way, with soft eyes and a kind smile, or if Dave just had a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve. Dave suddenly snapped his attention back to Jack and Jack had to pretend he wasn’t staring. 

“Speaking of family,” Dave started, visibly nervous as he drummed his fingers against his thigh, “My folks were wondering if you wanted to come around for dinner sometime.” 

Jack narrowed his eyes, “I’ve known you for like two days, Davey, and you’re inviting me for dinner?”

“I might’ve mentioned you to my mother, about your paintings, and now she kind of wants to meet you.”

“Uh-”

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Dave rushed to clarify, “I think she just really wants to have guests over to the new house, you know? So she kind of jumped the gun.” Jack was about to bring up that Race had a recital today, but then he remembered that he had given his ticket to Spot. 

“They won’t mind?” Jack sounded almost timid which was something Dave never had expected to hear. Jack didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to ruin the Jacobs family dynamic with his, well, everything. It took a while for Jack to understand that his mere existence wasn’t a burden to his own family, so being thrown into another family dynamic? He hated being needy, he hated feeling annoying even if it was something as simple as coming over for dinner. He already knew that his family and the Jacobs family would be really different, Dave  _ was  _ a private school kid after all. It’s not like Jack was poor or anything, but he had been in and out of the foster care system for many years before Medda finally found him. There was even a part of his life where Jack had to steal just for him to get buy and sometimes he stole just for the thrill out of it. He had long outgrown the habit but what would Mrs. Jacobs think of a thief being in her house? 

“No, of course not. Like I said my mom is antsy for company, she’d love to have you.” Dave smiled reassuringly at Jack which made Jack feel better, but he was still slightly unsure.

“Mom is a great cook, too!” Les added, seemingly materializing beside Dave. Jack had no idea where he came from. The two brothers looked expectantly and slightly anxiously at Jack, awaiting his response, and Jack caved.

“Okay, sure I can do dinner tonight.” Jack said, smiling confidently. Dave and Les beamed back, Les was practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Awesome, let’s go!” Les shouted, grabbing Dave and Jack’s hands and pulling him in the direction of the subway station

“Woah, woah, woah, right now?” Jack asked and Les stopped pulling him along.

“I mean, you can take the subway back with us, it saves you the trip. I know it’s only like 4:30 but we can just hang out in my room or something until dinner. I know I sort of sprung this on you really suddenly and you totally don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” 

“Davey, relax, I’ll come.” Jack cut off Dave’s rambling.

“Cool.” Dave replied dumbly and Les took that as a sign to keep tugging their hands as he dragged the two to the station.

Again, Jack Kelly wasn't poor. He and his family got by well enough. Medda’s theatre didn't bring in the most money, sure, but between it and the money Medda’s husband left her after he died, things were fine. Jack thought his house was nice, clean and big enough for the four of them, he’s certainly stayed in worse. The Jacobs’ house was very different, though. Three stories, newer and so much cleaner. Everything was so much brighter, with pristine white walls and countertops. Medda’s house felt homey, lived in, but Dave’s house was the opposite. Jack chalked it up to the fact that Dave’s family recently moved in, but he had never seen a house as pristine as this one. It had a wrap around porch and a balcony from the master bedroom. It smelt like lemons and mint, they even had hedges outside that looked professionally trimmed. When Dave, Jack and Les came home Sarah had greeted them at the door.

“Oh, Jack!” Sarah exclaimed, “I didn’t realize you were coming over.” 

“Davey insisted I come for dinner.” Jack smiled as he toed off his Adidas sneakers. Dave’s face heated up.

“I didn’t  _ insist _ , I just told him that mom wanted him over.” Dave defended himself, glaring daggers at Sarah. Sarah laughed before skipping over to the living room.

“Mother,” She called, her voice singsong, “David’s brought his friend.”

“Jack?” Dave’s mother called from the living room before poking her head through the doorway. Jack stood awkwardly by the front door, not sure what exactly he was supposed to be doing. Does he shake her hand? Go to sit down? It had been a while since he had been in a house other than his own since he normally hung out at school, at the park or at Medda’s theatre. Dave’s mother answered his unasked questions for him however when she came over and hugged him.

“I’m Esther,” She stepped back from the hug and introduced herself, “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All good things I hope.” Jack’s confidence slowly returned to him, wanting to make a good first impression. Esther smiled.

“Yes the boys are rather captivated by you, you know, I’ve heard you’re quite the artist.” Esther ushered Jack into the living room and offered him a seat. Dave followed them cautiously as if he was making sure his mother wouldn’t misbehave somehow.

“Boys plural?” Jack asked, curious. 

“Yes, David has-”

“Mother,” Dave interrupted, desperately trying to save him the embarrassment, “What are we having for dinner?” Esther seemed to take the hint and changed the subject. She started going into detail about the vegetarian meal she was making for dinner and Dave was thankful. Jack half listened, not really following all of the ingredients and techniques involved. Medda and Charlie did most of the cooking in the house, Jack only knew the basics and he was pretty sure that Race could barely make Kraft Dinner. Eventually, Esther left to start dinner and Sarah followed her into the kitchen to help.

“Jeez Davey, I think all this fame is going to my head,” Jack started once Esther left the room, “Seriously, how often do you talk about me?”

“Once or twice at the most, Mom loves to be dramatic.” 

“What do you say?” Jack wiggled his eyebrows before bursting into laughter. Dave looked confused for a second, probably trying to decipher if Jack was serious or not, then joined him in laughter.

“David?” Dave’s father wandered into the living room. He was on crutches and his leg was encased in a large grey cast.

“Father,” Dave greeted with a nod. Dave’s father looked from Dave to Jack to back to Dave again. He cleared his throat, not so subtly trying to communicate something to his son and Dave seemed to come to his senses. 

“This is Jack Kelly, the artist who works for the theatre-”

“Hold on, I don’t work for anyone, I don’t even get paid.” Jack interrupted. “Ma insists but I never take the cash, don’t need it.” 

“Right, uh, Jack this is my father, Mayer Jacobs.” Dave introduced the two, gesturing to his father. Mayer walked over and shook Jack’s hand and then sat down on the chair across from Jack and Dave.

“What happened?” Jack asked before promptly realizing that it was probably a crossing of boundaries. Mayer looked confused for a second and then registered that Jack was referring to his injured leg.

“Work accident.” Apparently, that was all that Mayer would supply, so Dave started enthusiastically filling in the details.

“He’s the head engineer at this manufacturing plant and when he was out on the floor he was crushed-”

“Don’t be dramatic David, I wasn’t  _ crushed _ .” Mayer scolded, but there was a smile present on his lips. Dave rolled his eyes and turned more towards Jack, essentially ignoring his father which made Jack smile a bit.

“He was crushed by this shelving unit, the police were called, it was this whole big deal.”

“Yikes,” Jack said rather awkwardly, “That must’ve been hard.”

“David has always been an eccentric, I’ll be fine and back at work soon enough, don’t worry.” Mayer reassured. Jack just kind of nodded, out of his element. Then Mayer started asking about Medda, the theatre and Jack’s artwork and Jack immediately fell back into his comfort zone. Both of Dave’s parents were easy to talk to and Les was certainly correct about Esther being a very good cook. Jack was pleasantly surprised, to say the least, especially when dinner came and Jack saw that the Jacobs teased and talked exactly like his family does. They’re nice folks, Jack really liked spending the night with them to the point where Race’s recital completely slipped his mind. Jack especially liked spending time with Dave, getting to know him better. Jack learned about what Dave liked to write as well as what he did when he wasn’t writing. Dave talked about how he got into acting, his favourite authors and bands and Jack held onto every word. Dave was just so… cool, but not in the way that you’d imagine. He just wasn’t afraid of being himself and doing the things that he loved. He seemed kind of awkward at first, but once you got him rambling about something he was interested in he would just go on and on and on. Jack loved his passion, he always has been drawn to passionate people and Dave was certainly a nice surprise. Jack wouldn’t have guessed that Dave would have so much to say and be so well spoken, but he is, perks of being a writer Jack assumed. 

Esther insisted that Dave walk Jack down to the subway station. It was dark and the chill of the wind nipped at their ears and noses. Their shoulders bumped against each other comfortably as they talked about school and The Wizard of Oz production. When they got to the entrance to the subway system Dave stopped to look at Jack.

“Well goodnight, I’ll see you Friday?” Dave stuffed his hands into his pockets and avoided eye contact.

“Yeah, Friday. I hope your folks know how grateful I am.” Jack replied.

“I’m sure they do, you told them about four separate times.”

“Hey!” Jack said defensively, “I know my manners, gotta thank them when the food is good.”

“Yeah, I know. It sucks that you can’t stay longer.” Dave kicked the ground ever so slightly just to keep himself preoccupied.

“Ma will kill me if I’m not home before curfew.” Jack said. There was a pause of silence that was practically deafening. The streets were quiet and serene besides a casual passing pedestrian or a car going by every so often. Snow drifted peacefully which made Jack feel at peace. 

“Goodnight Jack.” Dave’s voice was tender and there was a gentle smile on his lips. His eyes twinkled with something Jack couldn’t quite name. Jack had to admit that he did look quite beautiful backlit by the golden glow of street lamps, snowflakes in his hair and cheeks flushed.

“Night Davey.” Jack mirrored Dave’s whisper soft voice. They looked at each other for a second longer before Jack turned and started heading down the stairs to the subway station. Dave stood and watched him go until the chill caught up to him, only then did he start the trek back towards his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rewatched newsies last night so i think im about to get back into the groove. hopefully. lol. i hope the timeline isnt too confusing, this chapter takes place almost simultaneously with the previous one starting at when Jack get's to Davey's house for dinner. hopefully that will become clearer with chapter five (which is a shorter chapter). i dont have a beta reader so whoops  
> follow me on twitter [(@spotconlonsturf)](https://twitter.com/spotconlonsturf) or on tumblr [(murderouscroww)](https://murderouscroww.tumblr.com/)! (new twitter @ hehe)


	5. I Want To Be Angry and Break Something (But I Wont)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race and Jack work out their issues

Jack unlocked the front door of his house, hands only slightly numb from the cold air. It was only around 9 pm but Jack was quite exhausted, socializing does tend to sap his energy. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy talking to people and meeting Dave’s family, he just really wanted some time to unwind by himself right now. Maybe he’d put on a podcast and try to work on his art project, maybe he’ll start a personal project. He does have math and history homework he needs to do, but he could do it at lunch tomorrow. 

Once inside, Jack took off his shoes and carelessly nudged them out of the way (which he knows would drive Medda mad). Jack hung up his hoodie, now damp from the snow, and tried to ignore how  _ cold  _ his feet and hands were. He wasn’t expecting to be out at night, only dressing appropriately for a short walk with Charlie, and he certainly wasn’t expecting it to snow. The subway was almost as cold, if not colder, as the night air which really didn’t help him in the slightest.

Medda was in the living room to Jack’s right, watching some home renovation show on TV. Jack came over and sat on the couch beside her, practically sinking into the soft couch cushions. Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the couch.

“How was Davey’s?” Medda asked, she turned down the TV ever so slightly so she could give Jack her full attention. That’s one of the things Jack loved about his mother, she was so attentive and in the moment. She always listened to people's advice or input, especially when it came to the theatre, and she was just so selfless and accepting. If any of Jack’s friends needed a place to stay, they knew Medda’s house was a perfect place to escape troubles, even just for a moment. 

“Good, his mom really is a good cook. Nice folks, too, nice house.” Jack replied, “How was Race’s performance?” Since his eyes were closed, Jack did not see the way that Medda’s eyebrows furrowed at the mention of Race’s recital.

“It was great,” Medda answered after a pause, she sounded slightly unsure of herself. Jack opened his eyes and looked at Medda, involuntarily raising his eyebrows once he saw the look on her face.

“But?” Jack pressed.

“But I think Race wants to talk to you about something, he’s downstairs waiting for you.” Medda turned her attention back to the TV. There was some sort of commercial on about a law firm Jack’s never heard of, but Jack couldn’t really pay attention to what they were saying, too preoccupied thinking about what Race would want to talk to him about. Normally, if Race had something on his mind he would go to Albert or stop Jack in the hallways at school. Very rarely did Medda, or anyone for that matter, have to pass on a message that Race wanted to talk. Race didn’t like to go through people, paranoid that his words would be twisted in some way or another.

Jack stood up from the couch and stretched a bit, yawning.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Medda said. Her tone was lighthearted, but Jack knew that she knew about his late nights working on his art.

“I won’t, Mama, promise.” Jack kissed Medda on the cheek before heading down into the basement where his room was. Jack wasn’t sure what his room was intended to be when the house was built, maybe some sort of laundry room, but it didn’t make a half-bad bedroom. Ever since he put down a plush carpet over top of the cool concrete floors the room felt more like home. It’s still cold as shit, perks of being in the basement, but he didn’t totally mind and it was a huge bonus during sticky summer nights.

Like Medda said, Race was sitting patiently on the keyboard bench that was outside Jack’s room. The brothers refer to this area as the “rec room” since it has a keyboard, some workout equipment and space for Racer to dance as well as the laundry machines. Race knew how to play the piano, all three of the boys did to varying degrees, but from where Jack stood on the stairwell it didn’t look like Race was planning to play anything. His hands ghosted over the white plastic keys ever so gently, but it was more so just so he could have something to do with his hands. Race had always been the fidgeter of the group. They all had their little quirks and tics, of course, but Race was notoriously bad for being unable to sit still.

“What’s up?” Jack asked, snapping out of his weird daze as he continued down the stairs and towards his brother. Race startled before turning around to meet Jack’s gaze. His eyes were steely in a way Jack’s never seen before.

“You skipped out.” Race said, trying desperately to keep his composure. His hands were balled into tight fists on his knees. Jack could tell that Race was pissed. Race rarely got angry so whenever he did it ran the risk of being explosive. The only reason Race seemed so down to Earth and easy going is because he tends to stifle any sort of negative emotions until it’s too much to handle and it all boils over. Yeah, most of the usual stuff doesn’t bother Race. He can laugh off the teasing and the less than appetizing comments from kids at school, but there are little things that can really grind Race’s gears and tip him over the edge. A betrayal of trust just happens to be number one on that list.

“Yeah, Racer, I’m really sorry,” Jack said. He approached his brother slowly as if Race was a wild animal that Jack didn’t want to frighten.

“You could’ve given me a heads up,” Race’s voice got louder with every word, “Spot could’ve come to  _ me  _ for a ticket, you guys didn’t have to go behind my back.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing!” Jack  _ knew  _ how Race felt about surprises, about the unknown and of course Race would think that Jack and Spot were plotting against him. Jack felt so stupid for not realizing sooner that not telling Race was a horrible mistake. It’s not like he actively avoided telling him, he just forgot.

“Obviously you were wrong.” Race was standing now, arms crossed. He was a year younger than Jack and even though they were about the same height Jack felt the slightest bit intimidated by Race’s glare. Jack doesn’t run from a fight, obviously, but this was his very own brother. Jack fucked up, the damage was done and he knew that. All he could do now was reassure Race that it wasn’t going to happen again.

“I thought that Spot being there would make it up to you?” Jack didn’t mean to phrase it like a question but it accidentally came out sounding like one.

“You blew me off to go to Davey’s house for dinner? A kid you  _ barely  _ know? Do you hate me or something?” Race’s voice wavered ever so slightly and Jack realized what this was actually about. Beneath the anger and the frustration, Race was scared. The fear of being left, the fear of being hated had been drilled into Race’s brain years ago and now he’s worried that Jack was abandoning him. Scared that Jack was throwing Race out for someone new. Jack’s eyes softened. He understood the insecurity, the feeling that if things feel too good to be true then they must be false.

“No, of course I don’t hate you Race.” Jack saw Race visibly relax ever so slightly so Jack goes on, “I know I fucked up, I know I should’ve just asked you. So, if there is ever a next time, I’ll talk to you, okay?”

“I’m holding that against you.” Race said, his tone dancing on the line between serious and joking.

“We good?” Jack asked tentatively.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Race nodded. Jack opened his arms and Race willingly stepped into the embrace.

“You’re my little brother, Racer, I ain’t leaving you behind any time soon,” Jack whispered into Race’s ear. Race smiled.

“So I’m stuck with you for now?” Race joked as he pulled away from Jack.

“You know it.” Jack joked back, mirroring Race’s grin. Things were back to normal between the two boys now and they were both equally grateful for that.

“Circling back to Spot,” Jack started, a coy grin on his face, “How did they like the show?” A look of horror crossed Race’s face for the briefest of seconds. 

“I... I didn’t ask them. I kind of lashed out at them.” Race said, ashamed as he recalled their interaction an hour or so ago.

“Racer…” Jack sighed, burying his face in his hands, “What if they think you’re mad at them and not me?”

“Oh fuck…” Race’s eyes went wide with panic, “I didn’t even think of that.”

Jack laughed at his brother’s absurdity which caused Race to hit him lightly and shout “This is  _ not  _ funny, Kelly!” Jack continued to lightheartedly tease his brother as Race moaned dramatically about how he’s ruined things. Charlie eventually came downstairs, curious about the noise, to find Race flopped on Jack’s bed and Jack sitting in his desk chair, trying to coach Race through texting Spot. Charlie quickly joined in on the “helping” as he tried to snatch Race’s phone from his hands (“I’m better with words anyways, Racer, I’m a real Robert Frost”) and Jack knew he should have probably stepped in and tell Charlie to lay off, but it was so entertaining. Race ended up never getting to text Spot, claiming that he’ll “do it tomorrow” knowing damn well it would slip his mind. 

Medda made them all turn in early which none of them particularly complained about, Race was tired from his recital and the exhaustion from socializing was catching up to Jack again. The three kissed their mother on the cheek and wished each other goodnight before all parting ways, with Medda, Race and Charlie heading upstairs and Jack staying in the basement. As Jack laid down in his bed, slowly drifting off to sleep, he realized that he didn’t do his art project or work on his homework. He still had time, anyway, so he wasn’t really that worried, at least not tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter for today :( but dw next chapter one is gonna be good! oh and i might start posting two times a week soon (monday and thursday) just so i can wrap this thing up faster (im inpatient)


	6. Aw Jeez Racer How Come Your Mom Lets You Have TWO Boyfriends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey goes over to Jack's house for a school project.

Friday rehearsals were always harder than Monday ones. Sure, on Mondays the boys were tired as they tried to readjust from the weekend, but on Fridays it was impossible to get the group to focus as they were all preoccupied with their weekend plans. To be blunt, they were rowdier than usual. Between Kid Blink practicing on the piano, Mush and Charlie loudly discussing lighting and blocking and the others running lines, the theatre was quite loud. Dave could barely hear Sarah and Katherine over the commotion, making focusing on their parts quite difficult.

Jack strolled into the theatre fashionably late, trying to not be noticed by the other boys. His plan didn’t work out, however, because even over all the noise the boys all seemed to hear the signature click and whoosh of the theatre doors being opened and closed. The group looked up, but Medda was the first to speak.

“Jack, long time no see!” She greeted in a cheerful tone, but there was a sarcastic lilt to her voice.

“Sorry Mama, got tied up helping a teacher at school.” Jack replied sheepishly as he put down his backpack full of his painting supplies so he could get to work on the backdrop again.

“Dude, we were here before you and we don’t even live in this neighbourhood.” Katherine supplied as the boys returned to what they were doing before Jack walked in.

Jack shrugged, embarrassed, “She said I’d get extra credit.” Jack made his way backstage, opting to work out of sight now that people were starting to try and memorize their lines. He knew that Mush would start on blocking soon and he didn’t want to take up valuable stage space with his paints. Jack put in his headphones, attempting to “get in the zone,” and started to work. He was so focused that when rehearsals ended he didn't seem to notice. Dave came backstage to grab his book bag, making sure to not make the same mistake that he did on Monday, when he noticed that Jack was still there.

“Making up for being late?” Dave inquired as he carefully slid his script into his bag, making sure not to crumple it.

“Huh..?” Jack replied rather intelligently, still focused on the painting. Dave laughed lightly.

“Rehearsal’s over, you and I are the only people left.”

Jack whipped his head to look at Dave, clearly surprised, “What?” Jack asked.

“Medda dismissed us around 10 minutes ago, I just came back here to get my bag.”

“Damn, she didn’t even offer me a ride.” Jack grumbled as he started to clean his paintbrushes. Dave let a smile infect his features as he idly watched Jack work.

“Jack, I, uh, have something to ask you…?” Dave didn’t mean to phrase it like a question but hey, he was nervous, cut the guy some slack. Jack paused what he was doing and looked at Dave, eyebrows raised and waiting for Dave to continue.

“So I have this project due on Monday for journalism and I have to interview someone about, you know, their hobbies or work and I was wondering if I could write about you and your artwork?” Dave spoke rather quickly and Jack had a hard time keeping up, but he had gotten the general gist of what Dave was asking.

“You want to interview me?” Jack questioned, “Davey I’m starting to think that you’re only my friend because of my art.”

“No!” Dave hurried to explain, “No, no of course not. You’re cool and fun to be around outside of your art I just…” Dave trailed off, unsure how to explain to his friend that he was sort of using this project as an excuse to spend more time with him. Dave could have easily interviewed Sarah about her karate or Spencer about his gymnastics, but he wanted to talk to Jack more about what he likes. When he came over for dinner on Wednesday it felt like Dave was doing all of the talking which, now looking back on it, felt really rude. Dave now just wanted to see Jack’s eyes light up when talking about something he was passionate about.

“Davey, relax, I was just teasing. When do you want to do the interview?” Jack was all packed up now and seemingly ready to go. He started to walk out of the theatre and Dave was quick to follow him.

“Um, I was thinking tonight? That way I have the weekend to write and edit my article, could I come over?” Dave patiently waited for an answer, he was practically vibrating at Jack’s side as he watched Jack lock up the theatre.

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.” Jack barely hesitated over his answer. Maybe his brothers wouldn’t bother him and maybe Medda wouldn’t interrogate him and he could just spend some time with Dave and not worry about the state of his house or his room. He knows now that stuff like that, his room or his house, doesn’t bother Dave. It’s cool. A part of Jack, the part he refuses to acknowledge at this present moment, was glad that Dave asked to interview him. Since Wednesday he had been dying to spend more time with Dave and he was worried that being late to rehearsal today totally blew that opportunity, but then Dave asked about coming over and goddamnit if Jack’s heart didn’t soar. In a very platonic and bro-like way, of course.

Soon enough the two boys were in Jack’s bedroom. Jack was lying on his back on his bed, throwing a tennis ball up in the air before catching it. His eyes were trained on the glow and the dark stars arranged on the ceiling in different constellations. The stars were pale green and barely noticeable with the light on, however, so Jack really had to strain his eyes to make out the familiar patterns and shapes that he used to study.

Dave was sitting at Jack’s desk, his laptop in front of him and open to a blank google doc. Dave’s phone was on the desk beside him, face up and set to record audio.

“Okay so, here’s how it goes, I’ll ask you some questions and you answer them, uh, obviously. Try not to give one-word answers and I’ll be recording the conversation if that’s okay with you, so I can go back and find quotes if I need to.” Dave typed something on his computer and talked at the same time which thoroughly impressed Jack. Jack nodded before realizing that Dave wasn’t looking at him.

“Got it.”

“Good,” Dave clapped his hands together and hit record on his phone, “First, tell me what you do.”

“I paint, draw, sketch, whatever really. I don’t sculpt because that shit is hard as fuck, but anything else is fair game. I prefer acrylics and charcoal but I do like to experiment with the mediums I use sometimes.”

“How long have you been creating art?”

“Since I’ve been able to hold a pencil,” Jack sighed before continuing, “I’ve always been drawn to landscape pieces. Years ago, when I was still in the system, I used to paint sunsets from far away places. Bright colours, green meadows, clear skies with no buildings or light pollution. It was a way to escape, y’know?” Jack shifted slightly to look over at Dave in order to check that he was still listening. Dave wasn’t staring at his computer anymore, but instead looked intently at Jack, he was hanging onto his every word.

“But then Medda and Race and Chuck came into my life and I started to paint New York. It wasn’t just a dreary grey place anymore, it was home, and that's when I started to find beauty in the city skylines and skyscrapers. The light pollution still sucks, but I make do.”

“Wow…” Dave said breathlessly after Jack finished, “That’s a good answer.” Jack blushed ever so slightly at the compliment.

“You talked about pulling inspiration from New York City, your home, but are there any other places where you can get inspiration?”

“It’s kind of dumb,” Jack started, a bit embarrassed, “But I love to draw people so I always end up sketching the people I love or care about, like my friends or family. Sometimes I’ll be on the subway and see someone wearing a cool or unique outfit and come home and sketch them.” Jack looked like he was going to say more but decided against it. Dave and Jack spent a few hours going back and forth, eventually getting pretty off topic from Jack’s art. They didn’t realize how much time had passed until Medda called them up for dinner.

“Fuck, sorry, I should’ve kept a closer watch on the time.” Dave said as he hastily started to pack up his laptop.

“Stay for dinner, it’s only fair and Ma wouldn’t mind.” Jack replied coolly. It seemed like Dave was going to protest, but then realized that if he left now he wouldn’t be home in time for his own dinner, so he followed Jack upstairs. Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs which had Dave carefully eating around the meatballs and Medda apologizing profusely for not making a vegetarian meal and Dave having to reassure her that it was fine since he should’ve told her that he was staying for dinner sooner.

It was around 10:30 when Dave came upstairs with his bag packed up. Charlie was sitting in the living room reading a book with Poppy curled up at his feet. Dave walked over and scratched Poppy behind her ear.

“Uh,” Dave started awkwardly, “Jack seemed to have fallen asleep so I’m going to take that as my cue to leave.” Charlie looked up from his book.

“He just… fell asleep?” He asked.

“I went to the bathroom and when I came back he was passed out on his bed.” Dave laughed and Charlie just rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, he’s been pulling too many late nights.” There was an uncomfortable pause of silence as Charlie seemed to size Dave up, planning something in his mind. A sly, almost catty, smile spread across his features.

“It’s late, Davey, you should stay the night.” Charlie suggested. Something twinkled in his eyes that Dave couldn’t quite decipher, “You could sleep up here on the couch, I can lend you some clothes.”

“I…” Dave hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but Charlie was already getting up and going upstairs to retrieve sleep clothes for Dave and effectively answering for him. Dave, slightly overwhelmed by the series of events, followed Charlie upstairs and into his room. Charlie was rummaging around in his closet to find old clothes that might fit Dave, considering that he was almost six inches taller than the latter.

“Gotcha!” Charlie cried in victory as he pulled out a blue t-shirt and threw it in Dave’s direction. Dave caught it and unfolded it, reading the yellow text that was printed across the front. It said “track and field” in all caps.

“You did track and field?” Dave asked, turning the shirt over and finding “MORRIS” on the back in the same yellow font as well as the number 15.

“Yeah,” Charlie fished out a pair of black pyjama shorts as well as a spare blanket and pillow, “Before my arthritis got bad I was considered a track and field superstar.” Charlie pointed to a framed photo that sat on his dresser and Dave walked over to it. It was a photo of Charlie and around 18 other guys, all wearing the same blue and yellow t-shirts. Charlie looked younger noticeably younger, a huge smile on his face.

“How old were you?” Dave asked as he studied the photo.

“Around thirteen, I wanted to go to the Olympics.” Charlie said, heading back downstairs with the blanket and pillow. Dave looked at the photo then at the t-shirt in his hands before frowning slightly.

When Dave emerged from the bathroom after changing, Charlie was sitting at his desk in his bedroom, staring almost wistfully out the window.

“Goodnight, Charlie, and I’m sorry about the track team.” Dave said from the doorway, startling Charlie slightly.

“Night Davey, and don’t worry about it. I’m planning on getting back into it soon, I read that exercise is supposed to relieve pain, so it’d be good for me. I might even start training again in the summer.” 

“That’s good,” Dave smiled, “Chase your dreams, Chuck.”

Charlie smiled back, “Thanks.”

Across the hallway, Race was sitting on his bed and waiting impatiently. For the first time since Race had a really scary asthma a few years ago, Race’s bedroom door was closed. At 11 pm on the dot, Albert came tumbling through his bedroom window.

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just come through the front door.” Albert complained from where he laid on his back on Race’s floor.

“Medda would kill me.” Race replied sternly.

“Would she really? Medda loves me, you know, I’m sure she’d want me over whenever.” Albert rolled his eyes. Race was being pretty paranoid, more than usual, by making Albert come through the window.

“Spot comes through my window and they never complain.” Race retorts.

“Spot needs to raise their standards. Speaking of, have you talked to them yet?” Albert sat up so he could look Race in the eye, but Race was carefully avoiding his gaze.

“Actually, that’s why you’re here, sort of.” Before Albert could ask what Race meant, Spot pushed themself through Race’s window in one fluid motion. Albert just barely had enough time to avoid Spot landing on him.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Spot asked as they got to their feet.

“I just, I just gotta talk to you about something. Both of you.” Race said. Spot and Albert waited expectantly for Race to continue. Race squirmed in his seat slightly, feeling Spot and Albert’s eyes on him.

“Spot,” Race turned to the older boy, “I’m sorry for getting snappy at you on Wednesday, I wasn’t mad at you and I… Thank you for coming to the ballet.” 

“No worries” Spot smiled.

“And Albert,” Race redirected his attention to his best friend, “Thank you for putting up with my shit on Wednesday and on every other day.”

“Race, what the hell is this about?” Albert asked and Race squeezed his eyes shut.

“Listen okay I just like you both, like a lot, and I can’t choose. I thought I could, I thought I was going to choose Spot but holy fuck Al you are just so, like, I can’t stop thinking about you. And-”

“Date both of us.” Spot interrupted Race’s rambling, completely deadpan. 

Race’s eyes went wide with surprise, “What?”

“Yeah,” Albert nodded thoughtfully, “You don’t have to choose.”

“You’re telling me I could’ve done that from the beginning?” Race yelled before remembering that he was supposed to be quiet. Albert and Spot both nodded at the same time and Race sighed. Spot walked over to Race’s right side and kissed his temple.

“Are you okay with this, Tony?” Spot asked in a low whisper. Race’s face flushed slightly at the nickname. He looked between Spot and Albert.

“Are you two?”

“Hell yeah, are you kidding me? I’ve been tiptoeing around my feelings for you since middle school.” Albert said with a casual shrug. Race’s eyes widened in surprise. Albert decided to ignore Race’s surprise and moved to Race’s left side. He kissed Race’s cheek before his face broke out into a grin. Race buried his face in his hands.

“You two are gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He mumbled into his palms. Spot and Albert both laughed.

“Oh, Racetrack Higgins can’t handle a simple kiss?”

“Yeah, are you flustered already?”

Race pushed both of the boys away from him, “Do  _ not  _ make me regret this.” His loving tone immediately took all of the bite out of his bark. Spot and Albert didn’t seem phased and instantly returned to Race’s sides to pester him further. Race rolled his eyes playfully. Fuck, he loved his friends, now boyfriends, so much it made him giddy. He wouldn’t admit that, of course, at least not yet. Albert ended up complaining out how late it was until Race caved and just let him stay over. Albert melted into Race’s side easily, curling up into the side of the smaller boy. Spot, worried they were missing out, invited themself into Race’s bed. Race sighed but allowed Spot to wrap their arms around him.

Jack woke up Saturday morning still in his jeans. He grimaced slightly, realizing that he passed out the night before without changing or brushing his teeth. He also realized that he didn’t remember Dave leaving last night which means he must’ve fallen asleep before he left, some host he is. Jack rubbed his eyes sleepily before switching his jeans for a pair of sweatpants and made his way upstairs, following the smell of Medda’s signature homemade pancakes. When came up the stairs and entered the living room his eyes were immediately drawn to the blanket and pillow on the couch. His eyes shifted over to the kitchen and his gaze landed on a particularly familiar mop of dark curls.

“Davey?” Jack walked over to the kitchen island where Dave was sitting with Charlie.

“Oh, Jack! Good morning.” Dave greeted as if he was surprised to see Jack in his own house. Jack slid onto the stool next to Dave.

“Uh, you stayed the night?” Jack internally cringed at the fact that he even bothered to ask.  _ Obviously,  _ Dave stayed the night, he was wearing one of Charlie’s old track and field shirts and the couch was turned into a makeshift bed.

“Yeah, haha, after you fell asleep Charlie convinced me to stay since it was late.” Dave smiled warmly at Jack. His hair was messy and matted to one side from sleep. The morning sun shone through the windows and painted Dave’s features in a dreamy gold colour. The blue of the borrowed shirt he was wearing brought out the blue in his eyes, eyes which seemed to make Jack’s head fuzzy. David Jacobs looked like he belonged in Jack’s kitchen like he was the warm presence that the house was missing.

“Sweet.” Jack replied rather lamely, too busy drinking in Dave’s face and eyes to think of something coherent. Afraid that if he said more than a few words he would start to run his mouth and tell Dave that he looked pretty.

“Alright Davey, what would you like in your pancakes?” Medda asked, single handedly saving the conversation. She was already planting Charlie’s chocolate chip pancakes with more cooking on the stove.

“Just plain, thank you.” Dave replied and proceeded to get called boring by Charlie. Medda nodded and fished some plain pancakes out of the oven’s warming tray before getting started on adding some blueberries to the half cooked pancakes on the stove for Jack. She flipped the pancakes over and instantly the kitchen was filled with the sweet scent of fruit cooking. She placed Dave’s plain pancakes on a plate before sliding them across the countertop and over to Dave. Dave smiled and thanked her. As Dave and Charlie dug into their pancakes, footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

“Good morning Race, Spot and Albert.” Medda said without looking up from what she was doing. Race’s head snapped up and his face flushed from embarrassment.

“Morning Mama.” Race greeted smally as he rubbed his eyes and sat down at the island.

“Good morning, Medda.” Albert beamed as he sat down beside Race. Albert nudged Race with his elbow and gave him a look that said “See? I told you so.” Spot just nodded, half asleep, and sat beside Race on his other side. Charlie and Jack stared at their brother, dumbfounded, before bursting into laughter.

“Holy shit! Both?” Jack asked, his chest ached from laughing so hard.

“Language, Jack.” Medda scolded as she slid pancakes onto a plate for Jack. Jack smiled apologetically and thanked Medda for breakfast. Medda turned her attention to Race, Spot and Albert.

“I hope y’all were safe last night, now what do you want on your pancakes?” She asked casually, causing Spot to choke on their own spit slightly. Race’s ears turned pink and Albert choked out a semi awkward laugh.

“The usual, please.” Race murmured, already regretting coming downstairs for breakfast. To be fair, he was tired, hungry and he did not register that Spot and Albert were going to  _ follow  _ him downstairs. Albert placed his order with a grin on his face, far too proud of himself for flustering Race again. Spot mumbled out a “just plain, thanks” without making eye contact with Medda. 

The awkward air surrounding the kitchen island soon dissipated once everyone had some food. Though Jack could not help but tease Race the entire time they ate breakfast, it was his duty as an older brother.

“So we are ignoring the fact that Davey also stayed over?” Albert asked as he shoved a piece of pancake into his mouth. Medda chided him for talking with his mouth full and Dave’s face flushed.

“Well Charlie-”

“Oh Charlie, huh?” Race wiggled his eyebrows which granted him a smack on the back of his head from Jack. 

“Quit it.” Jack scolded.

“Is Jack jel-”  
“I said quit it!” Jack repeated himself, louder this time, and Race looked genuinely shocked before dropping the topic altogether. The group returned to menial chatter about the upcoming play with Race complaining about the lines he had to memorize. Eventually, Albert and Spot left together, both mumbling something about how they hadn’t planned on staying over and that their dad was probably going to kill them. Dave changed back into his own clothes, thanking both Charlie and Medda three separate times for letting him borrow some clothes and stay over. Once Dave was gone, the house felt weirdly empty. Jack just stood in the foyer and stared blankly at the front door. The door Dave had _just_ walked out of.

“John, I haven’t seen you this lovestruck since that one brunette girl.” Medda commented as she walked from the kitchen to the living room, her hands wrapped around a fresh cup of coffee. Jack practically jumped out of his skin, half due to Medda using his real name and half because she insinuated that he was  _ lovestruck  _ over Dave. Jack turned on his heel to face his mother and pointed a single accusatory finger in her direction. 

“ _ Lovestruck _ ?” Jack asked in disbelief. It was as if Medda betrayed him just by assuming such a thing. “I ain’t lovestruck for nobody, trust me.”

Medda just hummed an acknowledgement, turning her attention to flipping through the channels on TV before landing on a mundane looking cooking show.

“You get this expression on your face when you look at Davey, it’s sweet Jack, really.” Medda replied before taking a sip from her coffee mug.

“Dave’s just a friend.” Jack said matter-of-factly. Medda turned in her seat to face Jack and gave him an unconvinced eyebrow raise. Jack caved, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay so he’s a  _ good  _ friend, alright? Will you get off my back now?”

Medda seemed to consider this for a moment. She tapped her index finger against her chin, mimicking being deep in thought.

“Be careful, darling, you have the reputation of being a bit of a heartbreaker.” Before Jack could ask Medda what she meant by that, Race came bounding down the stairs shouting something about how he just learned a cool fact and he had to tell someone about it  _ immediately.  _

Jack sulked his way to the basement while Medda’s words replayed in his head. Was she implying that Jack was going to break  _ Dave’s  _ heart? Wouldn’t that mean that Dave actually liked him in that kind of way? Jack let his thoughts wander ever so briefly to Dave. His blue eyes only accentuated by that blue track shirt, his mess of chocolate brown curls, his gentle smile that made Jack’s nerves buzz uncomfortably. The fact that Dave seemed to know what to say all the time, no matter the situation. Jack walked into his bedroom and looked at the sketchbook that was left open haphazardly on the floor. It was filled with all of the brainstorming for the art project that was due in a few days. Messily done thumbnails and half finished concept sketches. Suddenly, inspiration hit Jack like a semi-truck. He scrambled to get his watercolour paints and paper, seemingly worried that the idea would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He didn’t even bother with a sketch, instead opting to immediately dip his paintbrush into the blue paint. 

_ His eyes _ , Jack thought to himself,  _ I’ll start with his eyes _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spot/race/albert storyline is finally tied up now we can start to focus on the javid for the next two (TWO!!!) chapters. fun fact: this was the chapter i envisioned when i first started writing and originally this was going to be the last chapter but plans changed when i went to plan out the plot. anyway i hope u enjoyed :P i know last chapter i said i might upload on thrusday as well but i doubt that will happen since i cant see myself finishing chapter eight in time if i do. but we will see... perhaps i will get a stroke of inspiration


	7. I Can't Think of a Title For This Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine and Specs gossip about Davey's feelings while Race tries to "help" Jack's love life

It had been three days since Dave stayed over at the Larkin household. Dave was lounging in Katherine’s bean bag chair, calculus textbook open and on the floor to his right. He was writing something down in the notebook in his lap, eyes flickering from his notes to the book every so often. Katherine was sitting on her bed in a similar position, legs pulled up to her chest in order to have a makeshift work surface for her notebook. She was writing in gel pen (like a “heathen” Dave would say) and made sure to carefully colour code each piece of information. It was a time consuming way to study for a calculus test, but it worked as Katherine was almost acing every test they’ve had so far. Spencer was on the floor, lying on his back as he held his book above him. He wasn’t studying for calculus, he wasn’t even taking calculus, but instead reading a book for his English class. His arms ached from holding the book in this awkward position, definitely not the prime reading position but the pressure to turn his assignment on time outweighed the fact that he was uncomfortable.

The room was quiet, the only exceptions being the gentle scratching sound of pencil on paper and the sound of Spencer turning the pages in his book. Eventually, the silence was broken by Katherine who huffed before stretching out her legs. She yawned, letting her eyes flutter closed for a brief moment. She reopened them after a few seconds and directed her gaze towards Spencer on the floor.

“Specs, truth or dare?” Katherine asked. She fell into the habit of calling Spencer the nickname that Race had given him on their first day at the theatre. Nicknames seemed to be infectious like that. Katherine was now only ever “Katherine” at home, instead being affectionately referred to as “Kath” by everyone (but especially Sarah and Jack). Spencer had embraced his new nickname enthusiastically, happy to be included in any and all shenanigans that the Larkin Theatre boys got involved with.

Spencer put down his book, resting it open and page side down on his chest. If Dave was looking, he would’ve cringed and commented that it was “the damaging way” to store books. The classic study sessions that the three teenagers would hold would almost always dissolve into a game of some sort once Katherine stopped being able to focus on the task at hand. Truth or Dare was one of the most common ones, a semi-entertaining game that didn't require much effort.

“Dare.” Spencer answered confidently. He sat up so that he was resting on his elbows. There was a taunting look in his eyes as if he was challenging Katherine to do her worst. However, that look was quickly wiped from his face when Katherine smiled wickedly at him, clearly plotting something.

“I dare you to text Romeo and tell him-”

“Truth!” Spencer quickly corrected himself at the mention of Romeo’s name. “I pick truth, actually.” Katherine rolled her eyes, disappointed at Spencer’s cowardice. 

“Okay  _ fine _ . Out of all the Larkin Theatre guys, who do you dislike the most?”

Dave looked up briefly from what he was doing, eyes flickering from Spencer to Katherine before returning to what he was doing. Dave didn’t often look down on his peers, but he just couldn’t comprehend why someone like Katherine busied herself with silly middle school games. She was turning eighteen in only a few months, she  _ should  _ be above things like “truth or dare.” It’s not like she wasn’t smart or mature, she was just a bit of a gossip hound. It’s what made her a good reporter.

Dave didn’t  _ mean  _ to be a stick in the mud. It just came naturally to him, Sarah and Katherine had encouraged to “just let go” and he was really trying. He just had so much on his plate right now. He had to think about University, doing well on his calculus test as well as memorizing his lines for theatre. He had to admit, though, that spontaneously spending the nights at Jack’s with only a text to his mother informing her that he wasn’t dead was a breath of fresh air.  _ Jack  _ was a breath of fresh air. An artist, not weighed down by the stress of academic life. It was interesting,  _ he _ was interesting.

“Jeez, Kath, don’t you find that a bit harsh?” Spencer asked, effortlessly dodging her question.

“Specs I know that even you can’t get along with everyone. I’m just asking the real questions here.” Katherine huffed, impatient that Spencer was taking so long to answer.

“Well… I don’t dislike him per se, but Tommy Boy kind of looks like he wants to kill me.” Spencer finally answered. Katherine looked like she was about to ask for further explanation, but Spencer interrupted her by turning towards Dave.

“Davey, truth or dare.”

Dave looked up at Spencer again. If he had glasses, he would be peering over them in a slightly judgemental way.

“Truth.” Dave replied simply. He moved his notebook out of his lap, fully accepting that he was about to be distracted from studying.

“If you got to go on a date with anyone in the world, regardless of age, location or status, who would you choose?”

“Jack Kelly.” Dave answered immediately due to the boy already being on his mind. He barely processed the words before they fell out of his mouth. Realization dawned on Katherine’s face and she downright squealed.

“Davey!”

“Wait, wait,” Dave immediately started to backtrack, face flushed red. “I meant like, just to get to know him better. Since he seems kinda cool, you know, and really talented and-.”

“You’ve invited him over to your house for dinner  _ and _ you’ve slept over at his house.” Spencer pointed out. Dave buried his face in his hands.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You  _ just  _ said you wanted to go on a date with him!”

“Like in a friend way.”

“Davey, you can’t go on a ‘friend date’ with someone.” Katherine was now sitting cross legged on her bed, eyes focused intently on Dave. Dave squirmed slightly under her gaze.

“Just to like… hang out?” Dave didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, it just sort of happened. Spencer struggled to hold back his laughter while Katherine looked at Dave in genuine disbelief.

“Davey…” She started gently, a great shift from the joking tone she was just using, “It’s okay if you like Jack like that.”

“I don’t! I just… admire him… I guess.” Dave admitted almost bashfully. “I mean it was just the first response to come to mind, okay?” 

Spencer raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t quite believe Dave. Dave quickly distracted himself with his homework, trying desperately to engross himself in his studying again. Katherine and Spencer shared a look, both equally skeptical of their friend.

“Davey,” Spencer began, but Dave cut him off.

“Just drop it, okay? It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s cute! I think you two would be cute together. Opposites attract, right?” Katherine now sat on the floor next to Spencer as if she had suddenly teleported. The two of them were trying to reassure Dave, both equally regretting their previous teasing. Dave put his book down again and stared at Katherine’s white ceilings. He could see the pushpin holes from when Katherine had posters plastered over every inch of her room (much to her father’s dismay. She’s significantly downsized her poster collection since then). Dave took a deep breath, trying to piece together the mess of emotions in his mind. He was normally pretty good at this, processing his own emotions, it was other people that he couldn’t read.

“I just…” Dave couldn’t describe it. For the first time in his life, he was at a loss for words. He had barely known Jack for a week and was still falling for him, or was at least about to fall for him. Teetering on the edge of a cliff wondering if falling was going to be worth it in the long run. It wasn’t like Dave hadn’t had guys he’s liked in the past, but Jack was different. Dave was so drawn to him, ever since he had given Dave a nickname without even thinking twice about it. Jack made everything look so easy, effortlessly. Dave half admired it and was half jealous of it. Maybe Katherine was right, maybe opposites  _ do  _ attract. But underneath that carefree attitude, Dave had seen a more sensitive side of Jack. The side that cared deeply about his brothers, Jack was certainly attractive too, which didn’t help Dave very much. Strong jawline, hazel eyes that reminded Dave of warm, spring days and he was  _ fit _ . How does a painter have arms like that? Dave had no idea, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

Katherine waved her hand in front of Dave’s face, “Earth to Davey. You’re getting all spacey again.” Dave blinked, shaking himself back into the present.

“Right, sorry. I-” Dave was about to make some excuse or maybe beg Spencer and Katherine not to tell anyone before his phone went off. Dave fished it out of his pocket and his jaw dropped when he saw who had just texted him.

“It’s Jack,” Dave whispered in disbelief, “He’s asking if I want to come over to his house on Thursday after school.” 

Katherine almost squealed, “So you’re going to say yes, right?”

“I mean obviously I was going to say yes but because Jack’s my friend and-”

“And you have a crush on him.” Katherine finished for Dave and he glared at her.

“No that is not what I was going to say.” Dave rolled his eyes, exasperated, as he started to text Jack back. It was just a simple “sure!” with a smiley face for good measure. Dave didn’t want to sound too excited, not as excited as he felt or else Jack might’ve thought he was weird.

“You guys are blowing this out of proportion. I do not have a crush on Jack Kelly.” Dave stated firmly, fully returning his attention to his calculus.

“But you  _ do _ want to go on dates with him and kiss him and stuff.” Spencer supplied helpfully. Dave groaned.

“I never said I wanted to  _ kiss  _ him.”

“We can read between the lines, Dave.”

Dave rolled his eyes, “It’s just a stupid little crush, okay? Not a big deal, certainly not worth  _ telling  _ him.”

Spencer and Katherine looked at Dave with pity in their eyes and Dave hated it. He could  _ feel  _ their stares as he copied an equation from his textbook to his notebook. Dave didn’t need their pity, he wasn’t a charity case. He didn’t like being treated like he was suffering just because he had a crush on some straight guy.

“Lighten up, you’re acting like someone died.” Dave chided. He loved Katherine and Spencer dearly, they were his closest friends, but they tended to treat him like was fragile. Dave wasn’t fragile, he could handle things, make a name for himself. He had just stopped being babied by his mother and Sarah and now he had to worry about his best friends babying him? No thanks.

Katherine and Spencer soon returned to their work and the borderline grim feeling in the air eventually dissipated. Dave didn’t want to be frustrated with his own feelings or his friends, he was going to see Jack soon, and that certainly was a beacon of hope. 

Meanwhile, in another neighbourhood, Jack stood in his living room and stared down his younger brother.

“Racer,” Jack’s hands rested on his hips as if he was a mother scolding her child, “Why do you have my phone?”

Race smiled sheepishly from where he was laying on the couch. He was caught red handed, Jack’s phone still clutched in his grasp.

“I was just helping you out.” He replied innocently, standing up and dropping the phone into Jack’s hands before making his way to the kitchen. Jack followed him, obviously very suspicious of his younger brother’s true intentions.

“Helping me out with what, exactly? ‘Cause last I checked, I didn’t ask for your help with anything.” 

Race shrugged as he opened the fridge door and grabbed the carton of orange juice and placed it on the island counter. Jack waited impatiently as Race got a glass out of the cupboards and started to pour some juice.

“Well actually, Charlie asked me a favour and who am I to turn down my own little brother?” 

“Charlie asked you a favour… that has to do with my phone?” Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Just as he was about to ask for more information, his phone buzzed in his hands. It was a text from Dave, Jack opened up the conversation and read Dave’s reply.

“Race, care to tell me why Davey just responded “sure” to a hangout plan that I never arranged?” Jack asked as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He wasn’t angry, per say, just a little pissed at his brother's antics. What the hell were him and Charlie plotting?

Race stopped pouring his juice and looked Jack in the eye, “Well, Charlie saw that painting you did and asked me if I wanted to help with setting you and Davey up.” Jack’s eyes went wide with shock.

“ _ Set us up _ ? Racer what the hell are you even talking about?” 

Race sighed dramatically as if  _ Jack  _ was the frustrating one in this situation. “Yeah because obviously you have a thing for Davey, you painted him.”

“I’ve painted you too, and Charlie, and Mom.”

“Yeah but we’re  _ family _ . You’ve known Davey for what, a week?”

“Race.”

“Listen, Charlie noticed something and I thought he was onto something. Now we are giving you an opportunity to confess, it’s fallen into your lap.”

“You-!” Jack practically screeched before lowering his voice, “Does he  _ know _ ? Did you tell him anything?”

“So you admit that there’s something!” Race cheers, taking a triumphant sip of orange juice. “Anyways I haven’t said anything, I just told him that you wanted to hang out here on Thursday. The ball is in your court, Jackie.” Race left with his juice, scurrying upstairs to the safety of his room and away from the wrath of his brother. Jack sat down on one of the stools surrounding the island and rested his forehead against the cool marble countertop.

“Fuck.” He whispered under his breath. He was no longer upset with Race for stealing his phone and texting Dave, no, Jack was mad at Race because he was  _ right _ . He painted Dave because there was something special about that boy that Jack could not seem to describe. He painted him because he was beautiful. Like, shockingly beautiful. Jack was no stranger to finding guys attractive, he’d come out as bisexual freshman year of high school, but Dave wasn’t really his typical “type.” Dave had this nerdy aura to him, awkward but in a way that was endearing. Jack guessed that if he hadn’t gotten to know Dave, if he hadn’t seen that awestruck look on his face last Monday, he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But he did. Dave complimented him, invited him over for dinner,  _ slept at his house _ . Jack wanted to know more, he wanted to learn about the things that Dave loved, he wanted to know what made him tick. He wanted to hear about his childhood and his future plans. Dave was no longer a pretty face, he wasn’t just some stranger on the street. No, he was very much real and Jack was drawn to him like a magnet. He wanted Dave to be his, but more importantly, he wanted to be Dave’s. Jack wasn’t in love with Dave, but he had the  _ capacity  _ to love Dave. Like with a little more time, Jack could love Dave, he felt it in his soul. He  _ wanted  _ to be in love with Dave, he rather liked the idea of being in love with Dave, as scary as the commitment was.

Once his forehead started to get sore, Jack straightened up with newfound determination.

“I’ll tell him.” He announced to no one in particular, a small smile present on his face. “I’ll tell him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops im late. next chapter might also be delayed bc my brain is rotting from minecraft sorry 


	8. The Chapter Where Everything Comes To A Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yahoo

Jack drummed his fingers against the island countertop anxiously, once and a while glancing up at Dave. Dave was seemingly oblivious to Jack’s nervous energy as he hung up his coat and carefully removed his shoes. Dave looked up at Jack which caused Jack to duck his head down in embarrassment. The awkward tension between the two was palpable and if Race was home he definitely would have made some sort of comment about how they should “just kiss already.” Dave stared at Jack, gaze unwavering, as Jack looked like he was about to jump out of his skin at any moment. 

It was all so different from when Dave came over only a week ago, then they had fallen into easy conversation almost instantly. Ever since that day Jack wondered if Dave left that morning also overflowing with inspiration and emotions. There was so much that Jack wanted to tell Dave, the things he’s been thinking about, the fact that Jack painted Dave with ease after a week of no inspiration, that was the reason Dave had been invited over, after all. But now that Jack’s been presented with the ideal situation to confess, his mouth was dry and the words were stuck at the back of his throat. This was supposed to be simple, Race had made it sound so simple. 

“So….” Dave supplied after the silence had stretched on for far too long. He fidgeted with the strap of his book bag and shifted his weight from foot to foot, seemingly unable to stand still. 

Jack’s head snapped up in surprise, “So...” He echoed. 

“Do you want to run lines with me?” Dave asked. Jack nodded.

“Sure, yeah, uh, my folks aren’t home. Race, Charlie and Mom all went out grocery shopping.” Jack said. Dave made a small silent “o” with his mouth in realization.

“That’s swell.” Dave immediately cringed as soon as the words left his mouth.  _ Swell _ ? Who the fuck says  _ swell _ anymore? What year was this? Dave was already making a fool of himself and he’d only been inside the Larkin household for a few minutes.

“Did you just say swell?” Jack could hardly contain his laughter. “Who the fuck says swell? Are we in the 1890s suddenly?” It was as if Jack was able to read Dave’s mind with the way he voiced Dave’s thoughts out loud.

“Maybe I’m just getting into character.” Dave countered. The nervousness slowly drained from his body and Jack seemed to physically relax as well. He hopped off the stool and made his way down to the basement while Dave followed obediently. The two of them situated themselves on Jack’s bed, both sitting cross-legged. Jack had Dave’s copy of the script in his lap and read out the other lines for him while Dave tried to recall his lines from memory.

Sitting next to Dave, watching as Dave recited his lines with almost zero mistakes, it awoke something deep in Jack’s chest. It was an ache, but it was a pleasant ache. A gentle pang to prove that he was still alive. With every passing minute, Jack wanted to tell Dave more and more badly, but something was still stopping him. Jack usually wasn’t this cautious, calculated when it came to things like flirting. When he liked someone, people tended to know. But with Dave, it was different. A part of Jack’s brain supplied that it was because Dave was a boy and while logically Jack knew that liking guys wasn’t a bad thing, there was a voice in his head complaining about the fact that Jack couldn’t just _pick a side_ _already_. The real reason as to why he was being so careful was because Dave mattered and Dave’s reaction mattered. He wasn’t just someone sweet passing by, no, Dave was Jack’s _friend_. A friend who, Jack hoped, could also feel this weird tension between the two of them. Jack swore he wasn’t making this up. There were sparks, he felt them, sparks that could be something more. Sparks with the ability to become full fledged fireworks. Jack felt them whenever he caught Dave staring or whenever their knees would bump accidentally. The uncertainty of it all was driving Jack insane. He was usually so sure of himself but of course, now Dave was bringing out his nervous side because Dave brought out all kinds of new sides in him. Jack didn’t even know if Dave _liked_ other guys. It completely slipped his mind that some people were actually straight considering his usual friend group were all queer in one way or another. It felt suspicious to ask him now, suddenly, what if Dave figures out Jack’s true intentions? What if he says no?

“Uh, Jack? Do you usually space out like this ‘cause this is the second time I’ve caught you.” Dave asked, waving a hand in front of Jack’s face for good measure. 

Jack swatted Dave’s hands away, “I’m fine, yeah, I just…” The words were on the tip of his tongue. He knew he had Dave’s full attention, he could just  _ say it _ right now.

“Did you get that art project done in time?” Dave asked instead. Jack thanked him silently for the all too convenient segue.

“Yeah, actually,” Jack rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Actually I painted, uh, I painted you.” He confessed. There was a weight to his words and he was unsure if Dave detected their true meaning.

“You what? Can I see…?” Dave’s initial shock was replaced by curiosity. He couldn’t comprehend why someone would paint him, but he was certainly excited to see the outcome.

“Well it’s currently sitting in my art class waiting to be marked, but here,” Jack fumbled with his phone slightly, “I’ve got a picture I took.” He turned the phone towards Dave and instinctively Dave reached for it. He examined the painting closely, or as closely as he could when it came to photographs, and Jack felt suddenly nervous again. Dave looked up at Jack and Jack swore that he could see the faintest bit of blush on Dave’s cheeks.

“Wow,” Dave breathed, “This is… like holy shit. You’re amazing.”  _ I could kiss you _ , were the words on the tip of Dave’s tongue. If he was a little braver, if he was a little more like Jack then maybe he could say them, but he wasn’t. Jack examined his friend’s face closely as if he was double checking that he wasn’t lying, and then took his phone from Dave’s hands.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird.” Jack rushed.

“Are you kidding? I don’t think it’s weird at all, I’m actually flattered. No one’s ever drawn me before, never mind made me look this good.” Dave commented as a smile tugged at his lips.

“I didn’t make you any more attractive than you already are.” Jack said which caused Dave’s blush to deepen.

“Thank you…” Dave murmured. He was deep in thought, staring at his hands in his lap. 

“Davey, listen,” Jack took a shaky breath before continuing, “I know guys like you don’t end up with guys like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dave asked. It’s like he was offended that Jack was putting himself down.

“I mean, you’re smart and well put together and me? I’m just-”

“Don’t say that you’re worthless, or that you’re no good or just gutter trash. Listen, Jack, I don’t know what your past was like. I don’t know how you grew up and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but the Jack that I’ve gotten to know is far from worthless. I know someone who is charismatic, caring and extraordinarily talented. Someone who values his family above all else. Someone who is admired by his brothers.” Dave’s voice was soft and genuine. His gaze was focused so intently on Jack that Jack was worried that he was looking right through him.

“You know all that by just a few rehearsals and hang outs?” Jack joked to mask his own emotions. He was already afraid that he'd been rubbed too raw by Dave’s words.

“I’m a writer, I pick up on things like this.” Dave quipped back. The two teenagers lapsed into a brief silence for a moment before Dave shifted how he was sitting in order to better face Jack. Their knees were touching and Jack tried to not dwell on it.

“Can I…?” Dave rested one of his hands on top of Jack’s knee. Jack glanced as Dave’s hand before returning Dave’s gaze.

“You don’t have to ask, y’know.” Jack replied with a shrug. He sounded almost bashful.

“It’s polite,” Dave responded, smiling. Jack rolled his eyes, amused, before leaning in towards Dave.

“You can.” Jack smiled back at Dave, only mere inches away from the other's face. There was a look in his eyes as if he was challenging Dave, egging him on. Dave shut his eyes and closed the gap between him and Jack, accepting the challenge. The kiss was chaste and sweet, when Dave pulled away he leaned his forehead against Jack’s. There was a goofy grin on his face and Jack immediately mirrored.

“You’re something else, Jack Kelly.” Dave murmured which only caused Jack’s smile to grow.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Dave snorted out a laugh before falling backwards onto Jack’s bed. He rolled his eyes at the older boy, well aware that Jack couldn’t even see his eyes.

“I…” Jack started, suddenly nervous. The change in tone caught Dave’s attention.

“What is this? I mean we just kissed.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be, I guess.” Dave shrugged, he didn’t want to pressure Jack into anything he wasn’t ready for.

“Well, I just know that guys like you don’t really end up with guys like me.” Jack finished. Dave sat up in surprise. He tried to look Jack in the eyes but Jack was clearly trying to avoid his gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re just so, y’know, smart and junk. You know exactly what you want to be, what you’re capable of and how to achieve your goals. I ain’t good with shit like that.”

“Jack, we already talked about this,” Dave shook his head lightly, “You are worth more than you think. Don’t sell yourself short, alright? Any guy or girl is lucky to have you, seriously.”

“You really mean that?” Jack asked.

“I really do.” Dave replied, leaning over to kiss the corner of Jack’s mouth. Jack’s lips quirked up into a small, coy smile.

“So how lucky do you consider yourself?” He asked with one eyebrow raised. Dave laughed lightly.

“Pretty lucky, I’d say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rushed 2 finish this. horribly behind schedule, i know. i just completely lost interest in newsies and had no motivation to finish this fic up until now. the ending is rlly short, im sorry, i just felt really bad leaving everyone on a cliffhanger. i hope this can satisfy your curiosity and im genuinely really sorry for the wait :(


End file.
